


Decisions, Decisions --Redux.

by Actual_Writing_Trashcan



Series: Colossus Hyperfixation Collection [36]
Category: Deadpool (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Gunshot Wounds, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Injury, Multi, Near Death Experiences, angst angst angst, another hill i will die on, hi welcome to FRANK CASTLE DESERVES FRIENDS DAMMIT, highkey this is probably shitty but i can't be assed right now, i'm so depressed, next week'll probably be fluff because i need a fuckin break from angst, that i'm just happy to have it done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-24 15:19:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17706731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Actual_Writing_Trashcan/pseuds/Actual_Writing_Trashcan
Summary: Piotr's POV on the original "Decisions, Decisions" fic.All warnings in the tags, but to reiterate: gunshot wounds, near death experiences, referenced child abuse, and angst to the nth degree.





	Decisions, Decisions --Redux.

The day starts out normally enough --though, his mother had always said that if bad days always started out bad, you’d start learning the signs so you could stand a chance against them, and that’d never happen because the universe never play fair.

It starts at a high point, admittedly. Listen to Wade’s antics --especially when he doesn’t have to clean up after the merc--is always amusing, and getting to help you with your band-aid is sweetly domestic and oddly endearing.

And then Nathan walks through the back door with none other than Frank Castle.

Maybe his mother was wrong. Maybe the universe does give signs for bad days.

 

* * *

 

 

He walks into the men’s locker room, already prepped and ready for the mission into Hell’s Kitchen.

A risky mission. A risky, dangerous mission that, while likely to save lives, will also undoubtedly end them.

He scowls as he listens to Wade jabber while Nathan and Frank get ready in a more practical fashion; Nathan seems amused --or endeared, or more likely both--while Frank is rolling his eyes every two seconds, and under normal circumstances Piotr might find that amusing, but now--

“You alright?” Nate asks when he notices Piotr scowling.

He hesitates for a moment, then opts for honesty. “I think this is bad idea.”

“Pete-y pie!” Wade chirps through the mask, inanely cheerful. “Cheer up, buttercup! We’re just gonna go in, un-alive a few baddies, and save the poor unfortunate souls they trafficked! No big deal.”

He tries to keep from grinding his teeth together --armor or not, it’s just not good for his teeth or his jaw.  _ He never changes. No matter what we do for him or how much help we provide, he never grows past his need to kill. _ “The X-Men do not kill.”.

“Christ,” Frank growls as he pinches the bridge of his repeatedly broken and re-healed nose. “Don’t tell me you’re gonna bitch about that. You honestly think these shitbags deserve to live?”

“Save it for now,” Nathan says, taking control of the situation. “Do you have a tactical concern?”

“Why do you want Y/N on this mission?” Piotr asks. “And me? What do we add to the team?”

“We need an official X-Men representative to take care of the trafficking victims; your armor means that you’ll be the least vulnerable given the situation.”

“Y/N does not have armor.”

“She’s handling recon--”

“Enough, Nathan.” Piotr looks the older --younger?--man dead in the eye. “We both know that recon could be handled without Y/N. Why is she coming?”

“Her power set’ll come in handy on the mission. Make it easier to get in and out without so much bloodshed.” Nate arches an eyebrow at him, questioning and challenging all at once. “I thought you’d be all over that.”

Piotr purses his lips. He knows he’s on the losing side of this argument --it’s your choice to go, after all, and you made it freely--but he still can’t shake the feeling that this is an  _ extremely bad idea _ . “I just think that, given her history with firearms, this might not be best mission for her.”

_ That _ gets Frank’s attention. The former marine goes from prepping his weapons and rolling his eyes to watching the two men with a level of scrutiny so intense it’s almost uncomfortable. “Is there something I’m missing? Are we taking a suicidal person on this mission?”

“ _ No _ ,” Nathan growls. “Give me a little more credit than that, Castle.”

“Well, outside of that, I’m not sure what kinda issues she’d have with guns--”

“She grew up in anti-mutant community, was hunted by men with rifles whenever she tried to escape,” Piotr says, maybe a little too eager to turn the argument in his favor --but also keen to protect your privacy.

Frank’s jaw rolls, and one of his fingers twitches. “Christ. And you’re worried that she’ll have flashbacks?”

“Something like that.”

“She hasn’t shown any signs of reacting to gunfire before,” Nathan argues. “And she had every opportunity to say ‘no’ to going on this mission.”

“Bullshit,” Frank spits out. “That’s not how triggers work. It’s not always an ‘across the board’ thing.”

Before anyone else can argue, there’s a pounding on the door that leads to the main hangar. “Hey!” you shout. “Are you guys ready yet? We need to go!”

“We’re out of time to argue,” Nathan says as he finishes loading up his various weapons. “We’ve got people to save.”

 

* * *

 

 

Things don’t just go South. They go completely inside out.

You get caught and you get shot, and you go down and can’t get up to protect yourself.

And then, just like he’d known --feared--you slip into an episode.

Next to him, Frank flinches when your scream rips through the speaker in his ear. “What the fuck? What’s happening?”

Piotr grits his teeth and darts forward. “What I thought would.”

There’s another scream that echoes into the night, and then the sound of something metal slamming into another metal object. Gunfire follows, which is then followed by the sound of men --lots of men--screaming.

Frank hisses through his teeth as he moves forward with Piotr. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“It isn’t.” He starts running towards the sounds of screaming, gritting his teeth as he feels wind whipping around him.  _ D’ermo _ .

There’s another burst of wind, and then one of the massive shipping containers lifts off the ground and hurtles straight towards them.

“Get behind me!” Piotr shouts at Frank, then lifts his arms to deflect the container.

Frank lets out a stream of swear words as the container bounces away across the dock. “What the fuck is going on? What’s your girlfriend doing?”

_ Trying to survive _ . He blocks the remains of a car flying towards them. “I’ll make sure nothing big hits us. Keep the traffickers off our back. We need to get to Y/N before she destroys the dock.”

“She can do that?” Frank shouts as he follows him.

“You are surprised?” he shouts back as he deflects another shipping container.

“Not really.”

He grimaces as Frank unleashes a hail of bullets at a couple of traffickers, and focuses on moving towards the sounds of your screaming.  _ We need to finish this. Now. _

Fortunately, he doesn’t have to wait long --or at all, really.

Unfortunately, it’s because of you.

The rest of the containers are ripped off the ground, flung away to various points on the dock, knocking out some of the traffickers and almost hitting Nathan and Neena along the way.

You’re on your knees, screaming as you curl in on yourself. There’s a visible sphere of air around you, swirling and spinning to create a shield between you and the rest of the world.

His heart clenches in his chest as he watches you grip at your hair. “Wade!”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m on it!”

Before he can do anything, though, you lift up your head and shriek.

A shockwave crashes across the dock, slamming into him and everything --everyone--else in its path.

He groans as he hits the pavement with a clang, digs one hand into the concrete with one hand as the winds threaten to toss him across Hell’s Kitchen, and latches onto an airborne Frank with the other.

You slowly lift off the ground, surrounded by a sphere of wind --for a moment, an inane, distracted part of his brain is reminded of Aang from the series finale of ‘Avatar: The Last Airbender’--and scream again. Chunks of concrete rip from the dock, flying into the air--

And then they drop back down to the ground as the wind dies out, and you drop down with them seconds later, hitting the pavement limply with a thud.

“Shit,” Frank hisses as he hits the ground, and then he’s up and running.

Piotr moves a little slower --he has to extract his hand from the concrete of the dock--which gives him time to see the sheer and utter carnage around him.

Blood. Everywhere. Dripping from battered, smashed bodies, staining the pavement, sprayed across the dented containers like raindrops.

“She’s bleeding out!”

Frank’s shout makes him go completely still, and then he’s armoring down and sprinting towards you.

Frank has his hands on your leg, pressing down against a steady stream of blood. “We need to get her to a hospital.”

“There are healers at the mansion,” Nathan starts as he ushers the surviving trafficking victims towards the jet.

“The bullet’s probably hit her femoral. She needs a fucking hospital.”

You let out a gasp, and then your fist comes up and slams into Frank’s face.  _ Hard. _

He reels back, startled more than anything else.

You stumble to your feet, shaky and pale but still fighting. “No, no, no,  _ no _ !”

Piotr lunges after you, wraps a hand around your arm and doesn’t let go. “ _ Myshka, _ please--”

Wade sprints towards you and clasps a mutation repression collar around your neck before scooping you into his arms. “Alright, sis, let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

 

Things go from bad to worse on the jet.

“She’s flat-lining!”

He may as well be too, for all the good his heart does him when he hears Frank’s shout.

Nathan’s in the cockpit, pushing the jet as fast as he can given that they’re in city limits. “We’re twenty minutes out from the mansion--”

“She’s dying, Summers, she needs a fucking hospital!”

“She’s a mutant, Castle! Hospitals don’t take us!”

He can hear himself screaming --coordinates to a hospital he knows has worked with Xavier before and taken cases too difficult for the healers at the mansion to handle--and feel the jet veer accordingly, but he can’t connect to it. All he can feel --all he’s connected to--is your hand in his, limp and clammy and too cold for comfort. He’s cupping the side of your face, murmuring pleas into your hairline--

Crying. He’s crying. Crying and shaking like a leaf and  _ terrified _ .

He sees a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye and realizes it’s Frank, tying a tourniquet around your leg.

“Don’t worry, Rasputin. We’ll get your girl there in one piece.”

 

* * *

 

 

You’re barely holding on by the time they reach the hospital.

Two groups of nurses come running out --a larger one for the trafficking victims, and a smaller set with a gurney for you. The smaller group scoops you up and whisks you away through a set of doors.

He waits until the trafficking victims are inside, out of sight and earshot, and then--

And then he hauls off and punches Nathan, straight across the face.

Neena’s fast to get between them, while Frank grabs onto his arm and Wade helps Nate up. “Whoa! Easy!”

“What did I tell you?” Piotr shouts. “What did I say?”

Nathan glares at him as he wipes blood off his upper lip. “I didn’t know this would happen, Piotr.”

“You knew she was compromised, Summers,” Frank spits out. “You knew she had issues--”

“She’s been on missions before; she was  _ cleared _ !” Nathan shouts back. “Do you really think I’d bring her along if she wasn’t?”

“I said this mission would be too dangerous!” Piotr snaps --screams. “That she was not ready for something like Hell’s Kitchen! That it was too risky!”

“She made her choice, Piotr.”

“And you let her.”

Nathan spreads his hands. “What did you want me to do? I’m not her babysitter, Piotr! She’s capable of making her own damn choices!”

“There is difference between our missions and Hell’s Kitchen. I expect you to know that and choose your team accordingly! Y/N is not assassin, and she has no training for dealing with men like traffickers --let alone those that frequent Hell’s Kitchen. You _ knew _ that, and you asked her anyway.”

“Piotr--”

“You put a fucking greenhorn on the mission, Summers,” Frank growls. “You under-prepped a member of your team. That’s on you.”

Nathan rolls his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose, but nods. “Okay, yeah. I made a mistake. What do you want me to do about it? It happened, we’re here; I can’t take it back, I can’t  _ change _ anything!”

Piotr scowls and shakes his head. “I could lose her because of your oversight. I could lose the rest of my life--” his voice breaks, and he has to stop to catch his breath “--because of your choices.”

Nathan sighs, heavy and hard. “Piotr, I’m sorry--”

He shakes his head again and walks down the ramp of the jet towards the hospital. “You need to think more carefully about who you bring into your war, Cable. Not everyone is meant to be soldier.”

 

* * *

 

 

You look peaceful, sleeping in the hospital bed. One of the nurses must have neatened up your hair a little, fanned it out over the pillow so it wouldn’t get tangled. You’re still too pale for comfort, but all your vitals are registering strong on the monitor. Normal.

He sighs, takes hold of your hand, and presses his lips against your knuckles.

There’s the sound of heavy boots against the floor, and then Frank’s hovering at the threshold of your room. “She okay?”

He nods. “We got here in time. The doctors say she should wake in little while.”

Frank nods, then crosses over to him and holds out a little envelope. “For when she wakes up. I can’t stick around.”

“Thank you.” He pockets the card, then looks up at the mass-murder standing next to your bed. “Why take my side?”

Frank’s mouth pulls down in a grimace. “I’ve been at the command of guys who didn’t do right by their men before. That shit doesn’t sit right with me.”

He sighs and rubs his face with his free hand. “Cable isn’t--”

“He’s not the jackass to end all jackasses, but he fucked up.” Frank shrugs. “He fucked up and we almost got killed for it. I got issues with that.”

Piotr purses his lips. “I don’t think it is that simple.”

“Maybe not for you. Is for me.” Frank turns and walks back out of the room, then stops halfway. “Does she know you love her?”

Piotr huffs out a laugh. “ _ Da _ . She is my partner, Frank.”

“People connect to each other in a thousand different ways without ever telling each other how they feel, Rasputin.”

That’s true. “She and I are getting married, once she gets better.”

Frank looks at him over his shoulder. “People don’t get better from that kinda shit. Not really.”

“She wants... diagnosis first. For why she... has her issues.”

“You mean it’s not PTSD?”

“We’re not sure. She has side effects that... do not fall into any illness or injury classification. We are still looking for answers.”

Frank takes a moment to process that, then nods. “I’m rooting for the two of ya. Take care, Rasputin.”

“Try to stay out of trouble, Mr. Castle.”

Frank laughs, harsh and bitter, as he walks out into the hallway again. “That’ll be the day.”

Piotr shakes his head --the man’s not wrong--and focuses on you again. He clasps your hand between his and kisses your fingers.  _ And now, all we do is wait. _

 

* * *

 

 

He has a lot of time to think while he waits.

The first thing he figures out is that Cable’s mission isn’t compatible with the X-Men’s practices. As much as the man may have a point, the X-Men don’t fight wars; their mission is to help the rest of the world see a different facet of mutant-kind, one that doesn’t put mutants on an instant kill list, and help take care of mutant kids and train them how to control their powers. War isn’t something the X-Men can do.

If Cable’s going to keep fighting his war --and it’s one that needs to be fought, Piotr’s not afraid to admit that--he can’t keep dragging the X-Men into it. They’re just not trained or equipped for the same level of fighting.

You’ve proved that. You shouldn’t have had to.

The second thing he figures out is that Nathan should’ve never dragged you, the X-Men, and Frank Castle into the same circles. Flat out. As much as Wade likes to bitch about images, the X-Men do have to think about them. They work with children, and they need to stay above board to keep doing that.

And you, well, you’ve had bounty hunters sicced on you by your parents before, and your uncle is a former non-voluntary government operative. The quieter things stay for you, the better, and Frank Castle is the opposite of quiet. Basic logic.

The third thing he figures out is that if Wade and Nathan are going to keep working jobs that the likes of Frank Castle works, they can’t stay at the X-Mansion. Basic logic. Again.

He’s too fuzzy, adrenaline long since worn off, to contemplate anything past that. He slowly nods off in the chair next to your bed, jerking awake every few minutes to check the vitals on your monitor, to make sure that you’re still alright.

The last thing he thinks of before he falls under is how much he loves you.

 

* * *

 

 

You wake up.

You wake up, and he’s never felt so relieved before in his life. He can’t stop touching you, kissing you, looking you over every few seconds to make sure you’re alright --really alright.

The nurses urge him to head back to the Institute, take a shower, and get some rest. They’re right, and you’re still sleeping off the effects of the anesthesia, so he does.

Well, for the most part. He does shower, and he eats something, and he makes himself a cup of coffee.

“You look like shit.” Ellie sits down next to him at the breakfast table. “How is she?”

“She woke up a little bit ago. She’s good --as good as she can be.”

“And how are you?”

He sighs, presses his fist against his mouth. “Things need to change. Deadpool and Cable can’t stay here.”

“No shit. What was your first clue?”

He gives her a look, then drinks more of his coffee. “Have you heard anything from the Professor?”

“He’s pissed, as is Scott and the rest of the team. They’re pissed that Y/N got shot, and blame Douchepool for dragging the likes of the Punisher into our arena.”

Piotr shakes his head. “It was Cable. Not Deadpool.”

“Yeah, well, point stands. They’re dragging shit to us that doesn’t need to be dragged.”

He gives her another look for her language and finishes off his coffee. “On that, we are agreed.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Okay, what’s your fucking deal?”

Piotr doesn’t look up as he makes himself a cup of coffee in the hospital cafeteria. “You will have to be more specific, Cable.”

Nathan growls behind him. “ _ That. _ That shit --the distancing and deflecting. What fucking bug do you have up your ass,  _ Colossus _ ?”

Even he’s not completely sure, if he’s being honest. He’s exhausted, still a little battered from the fight at the docks, and his nerves are completely fried from almost losing you.

And, well, he knows he’s not going to haul off on you for trying to help --especially not after you’ve had an episode--which really only leaves one other target.

Cable.

He almost lost you a few days ago; he’s spent past couple years imagining and dreaming about having a future with you, spent time soaking in your love and affection, and it was all almost ripped away in a matter of seconds.

All because Cable couldn’t keep you out of his war.

Because Piotr knows --he  _ knows _ \--that the recon could’ve been handled without you. It’s a thought that he can’t let go, wrapping around his brain like a neurotically flashing neon sign edged with thorns. He knows that you didn’t need to be there, that you would’ve been safer back at the mansion, and he knows that Cable knows all that, too.

It’s almost like Cable and Deadpool are too close to distinguish, now; two men fighting a war on their own terms, screw whoever gets tagged as collateral.

_ Nyet. That’s not right. _

Because Cable is careful in ways that Deadpool never will be. He plans, he takes the people on his team into account, he keeps track of the battlefield and how many opponents are left.

And, if Piotr’s being honest with himself, he knows that you’d never be mindless collateral to Cable --or Deadpool, for that matter.

But he still brought you into his war, a war you weren’t trained to fight.

And as a leader, as a man that’s spent years learning how to set up mission rosters, how to assess trainees and what missions they’re ready for, how to know when someone just shouldn’t be on a mission --or a mission just shouldn’t be run--it angers him like nothing else. It’s careless.  _ Callous _ .

But he’s not sure he wants to start that argument with Cable. He knows from dealing with Mikhail that some people are just set in their ways, and while they don’t like it when other people get hurt by them, it’s not actually enough to change their points of view.

(Life, really, is nothing but collateral damage if he wanted to be pessimistic about it, and he’s learned all too well from Wade that not everyone operates by his high standards of doing things.)

Besides, he really ought to be getting back to you, anyway.

He puts a lid on his cup and takes a sip as he turns and walks away --all without making eye contact with Nathan. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Man, if I knew I’d be getting the royal treatment, I’d make a point to get shot more often.”

He grimaces when you giggle. “Please, do not. I am happy to pamper you without you getting shot.”

“I was kidding, Piotr. I like getting shot as much as the next person --unless that person happens to be Wade or Frank, because I think they might actually enjoy it.”

He does laugh this time, and bends down to kiss you before lifting you into the shotgun seat of his car. “You may have point there.”

You wait until he’s pulled out of the hospital parking lot to point out the elephant in the room. “Why’re you pissed off with dad and Wade?”

He considers dodging, then thinks better of it. He’s got over an hour left on the drive with you, and he knows that you won’t drop it until you’re satisfied with the answer you get. “Wade is… Wade. Just… usual frustrations.”

“And dad?”

He drums his fingers against the steering wheel as he waits for the light to change colors. “He was careless. Brought you --brought the X-Men--into a war none of us needed to fight. It upsets me.”

You let out a little ‘hmm’ next to him. “And you’ve gone full cold shoulder because?”

“It is matter of principle,” he says as calmly as he can; he’s irritated and tired, yes, but he doesn’t want to take that out on you. “Leaders who put others like that at risk should not lead. I had to train for  _ years _ \--” He cuts himself off to keep from ranting and takes a few deep breaths before he starts talking again. “I cannot abide with those who needlessly put others at risk. I do not think Cable meant to put you at risk, but he made a mistake that was easily avoided --one that nearly cost the lives of all involved.  _ That _ makes me angry.”

You go quiet for a moment, then put a hand on his thigh, patting his leg gently. “You know that the mission hasn’t changed my feelings about dad and Wade, right?”

“Your relationship with them is independent of mine. I know they are family to you, and I would not ask you to give that up.”

“Just as long as you won’t be mad with me if I still want to spend time with them.”

He smiles and lifts your hand to his mouth so he can press a kiss to it. “Never.”

 

* * *

 

 

It comes down to a vote, in the end.

The X-Men vote unanimously to give Wade the boot.

Wade doesn’t take the news that he’s getting kicked out well. “So, you’re saving face again. Get rid of the rabid, mutant, fucked up dog before he can infect the rest of your Eukanuba, purebred puppies. Well, isn’t that just a lovely daisy on top of a shit boquette!”

“Bringing  _ the Punisher _ into our arena was completely out of line!” Scott seethes.

“Bringing Castle in was my call, not Wade’s,” Nathan pipes up. “He knew the area, he was familiar with the types of shitbags that worked out of Hell’s Kitchen.”

“His reputation,” Ororo aruges, “is a liability to this school and everyone in it.”

“So we’re more worried about reputation than saving people’s lives?” Wade asks, scoffing. “Is that what this has come to?”

“We’re fighting a war,” Nathan adds through his teeth. “You can’t always keep your hands perfectly clean if you want to win.”

“You’re fighting a war,” Piotr corrects quietly. “We have children to take care of. If you need to fight your war, you can’t do it from here.”

There’s a moment where something akin to respect flashes in Nathan’s eyes--

And said moment is promptly ruined by Scott. “Well, wait. Nathan, you’ll  _ always _ be welcome here, but Wade--”

Nathan rolls his eyes and scoffs as he turns to walk out of Xavier’s office, yanking Wade along with him. “You just don’t get it.”

 

* * *

 

 

“What the fuck!”

He grimaces. “Look, this decision has be long time in making--”

“You’re kicking Wade out. You all  _ voted _ to kick Wade out--”

“Deadpool does not fit in with our way of life. He believes things differently, and while diversity of belief is good for the world, we  _ cannot _ have an assassin living with children. If we lose our licensing to work with our students, many children will lose vital education for controlling their powers and a safe place to stay. They have to be the priority.”

You consider for a moment, then let out a sigh. “Yeah.  _ Yeah _ . That’s… that makes sense. What about dad? Is he going, too?”

“ _ Da _ . If he wants to fight a war, he needs to leave for same reasons as Deadpool. And, honestly, it would be best for Deadpool if Cable goes with. He is great stability for him.”

You nod. “He is.”

He kisses your temple, then the top of your head when you lean against him. “What about you? Are you staying here, or will you go with them?”

“My therapy’s here, and I’ve got bounty hunters after me. Best place for me is here.” You smile up at him. “Besides, you’re here.”

He smiles back, and dips his head to kiss you.

“Are you gonna mind if they stop by the visit every now and then? They’re… they’re still my family. I still wanna see them, even if they don’t live here.”

He shrugs, grins. “If the Institute can hire your uncle as protection, I think Cable and Deadpool can stop by for family visits.”

You grin back. “Awesome.”


End file.
